


Fate Brought Us Here (Love Keeps Us Together)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, coarse language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel never thought she'd see Sam Evans again… Fate had very different plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fate Brought Us Here (Love Keeps Us Together)

Rachel had no idea what would come from a simple meeting one warm New York day.

She'd ventured into Comics Creed with only one thing in mind, work, and ended up walking out with so much more.

Having never been inside a comic book store, her eyes were treated to an array of colors, from the bright blue floor and ceiling to the vivid orange walls. Shelving units created aisles in the heart of the store, while the walls held metal hooks, both of which were filled to the brim with merchandise; comic books, action figures, video games, DVDs, and even clothing toting alliances, be it to Marvel or DC or others that she didn't quite recognize. She was a little anxious as she walked up the centermost aisle, eyes cast in every direction, not quite sure where to start. She was seconds away from wringing her hands, chewing her lip near to bleeding, when she heard a warm chuckle and then, "You need some help, ma'am?"

She turned around abruptly, partly because that voice was liquid heat rolling over her skin – which came as quite a shock, seeing as so far the only men she'd seen in the store had been of the ragamuffin kind, peering at her with big, suspicious eyes, like they didn't understand what she was doing in their midst's. She was not expecting to see a handsome man with casually windswept blond hair falling just into his very green, very piercing eyes. She also wasn't expecting to see very pink, very  _familiar_ lips.

"Sam?" she exclaimed, brows furrowed.

With fives years between their reunion and the last time she'd seen him in high school, she couldn't say he'd changed much. He wasn't taller, or broader, but then he'd been six feel tall and in top physical shape her junior year. The definition of his face had matured though; where round pink cheeks were there was now noticeably chiseled cheek bones and a dusting of blond-brown whiskers that told her he hadn't shaved this morning but a beard wasn't his style. He was dressed casually, with a button up plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up his forearms, and a pair of dark-wash jeans that were just the right fit. She was blushing before she knew it, flashing back to high school when she'd asked him to be her date to prom and got shot down. Sure, they ended up going together on a group date, but she suddenly felt like a school girl peering up at an old crush.

"Rachel," he returned, much lighter and airier than her, and she was reminded that Sam was always much more laid back in comparison to her high-maintenance, overemotional self. His lips hiked up one side in a genuine grin. "Shouldn't be surprised to see you in New York…" He nodded. "Little surprised to see you here though…" His eyes darted around the place with obvious fondness. "Didn't know you were a comic-nerd."

"Oh!" She waved a hand, shaking her head. "I'm really not…" She winced. "Not that there's anything wrong with that." Her brows furrowed. "I fully support every and all form of art and especially those loyal enough to dedicate themselves to it when others might degrade or misunderstand it…"

That deep chuckle of his escaped him and she bit her lip hard to keep from reacting.

She was twenty-two years old and she felt like a hormone-addled teenager salivating over the pretty boy.

"It's okay…" He shrugged. "Not everybody knows how awesome all this is…" He waved a hand around vaguely to take in his surroundings.

She peered at him, her head tipped, and thought that it was really quite nice to see him so content. Sure, he'd always been pretty comfortable with himself in high school, but he did noticeably tone down any of his geekier habits that his girlfriends hadn't appreciated. She fondly remembered their group prom date though and how he'd entertained them all with his witty imitations of various actors. How proud he'd looked when they laughed genuinely rather than told him not to let anybody overhear him acting like a loser. Being one herself, she knew the ridicule that came with being one's self in the presence of others, and while she might have looked like she accepted herself wholly, she was well acquainted with insecurity.

"Actually, I'm here to explore just that…" She held a hand up and motioned her finger around. "There's actually a pretty well known comic book, at least to those that follow the genre, being adapted into a Broadway play…" she explained cheerfully, her eyes widening with delight. "I thought I'd get ahead of the curve and dive into the mythos early, giving me a head start against my competition." Staring up at him hopefully, she shrugged her shoulders. "I realize you probably don't have time to explain it all to me, but if you could possibly point me in the right direction…?"

"You know… I went to see the Broadway adaptation of Spiderman," he told her, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rolling onto his heels for emphasis as his brows hiked up.

She winced. "I'd like to apologize for the whole of Broadway, Sam… While I think their intentions were noble, I'm not sure they should have gone with such an action-heavy plot…"

He nodded. "Yeah… Well, I guess they tried… Besides it being one of the most overdone stories ever told, it did get some press out there… Opened up a whole new branch of readers for us." He smiled lightly. "I don't know if any of them stuck around, but sales were good for awhile…" He started walking down the aisle. "Anyway, I think I know which novel you're talking about… It's probably better for the stage since most of the action is more personal drama, an internal struggle I guess, and the visual stuff relies on the character's appearance, y'know?"

She nodded, taking two steps for his every one as she kept up with him. He had an unmistakably masculine swagger to the way he moved; like he was completely confident in himself. She dragged her eyes away from the broad strength of his shoulders and the way his back tapered down to his waist; how his shirt, which featured the Green Lantern logo on the front, hugged him quite attractively. She imagined when people drew up a stereotype to what a geek might look like, Sam Evans was the furthest thing from their mind.

Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the task at hand. "Yes, that's one of the reasons I liked the idea… I've been reading up some on the internet, but I thought it made more sense to read the original comics, so I could get a better handle on the character."

He stopped in front of a display and turned the wrack around. "That's cool…" He hunched down on his knees and started fingering through thin and thick books, explaining, "We sell out pretty quickly, but…" He dropped his voice to a whisper so the other patrons wouldn't hear, "I like to keep a few hidden off to the side so if somebody comes in and I know they'll really like it, even if they're not looking for it, I can make sure they get it…" He shrugged, smiling to himself. "Anyway... It's pretty cool that you're doing research on this… Guess it should be expected though… The Rachel Berry I knew in high school never did anything half-assed…" When he found what he was looking for, he stood back up and grinned down at her, his eyes seeming to take in every inch of her face. "You haven't changed much," he said, but he didn't look disappointed in the fact. He chuckled a little as he took in her clothes. "No animal sweater, but… You've still got the skirt, so…"

She smiled, laughing warmly. "Noah told me they were a permanent staple in my wardrobe… He did, however, tell me that growing up and leaving Lima meant I had to put the 'grandmother' sweaters to rest…" She shrugged, remembering her last few days in Lima fondly. "We had a private burning for them before I left for New York."

Sam nodded. "Puck's here, too?"

"Yes!" She beamed at him. "I was so happy that he took initiative senior year and really focused on getting out of Lima…" She couldn't hide her pride even if she wanted to. "He's been doing so well; attending NYU before he started training to become a firefighter." She reached out distractedly and touched his forearm, squeezing. "He even got rid of that hideous mohawk because he wanted to be taken more seriously! It's wonderful!"

"That's great," he agreed. "I haven't talked to much of the gang since I moved back to Tennessee… I'm happy to hear some of you guys are doing okay…"

He head bobbed agreeably. "When I left, I know that the majority of the gleeks were leaving too… Britney and Santana headed toL.A., Mike followed Tina to an art school in Pennsylvania, Mercedes, Kurt and Blaine all headed toward San Francisco, Artie had a bunch of acceptance letters to universities all over the country, and Finn and Quinn both stayed in Lima! As far as I know, everybody's happy though…" She shrugged. "We don't keep up much. There's Facebook and the odd email, but life became busy and we mostly lost touch…" Her smile dimmed a little. "It's hard to believe it was only four years ago that we took Nationals, but…" She drew in a deep breath. "I can honestly say I'm happy with where my life led me… I went to Tisch and started auditioning immediately… I've had a few minor roles here or there, but I can feel my break-out coming…" She nodded assuredly. "And of course, I have my best friend with me, too. Noah's been a wonderful support system. It was nice to have somebody I trusted with me when I explored New York properly… Of course, he refused to ask directions and he can't read a map if his life depended on it, but he's gotten better since…" Realizing she was rambling, she shook her head. "I'm sorry… I feel like I just word-vomited all over you…"

He wiped the front of his shirt. "It's okay… I don't think it'll stain."

She laughed, true humor warming her chest. "You're a good sport, Sam, but I'm probably keeping you from your job…" She looked around worriedly. "I really hope your boss doesn't think I'm a distraction."

He grinned, ducking his head a little. "He's pretty cool about these things… Not much of a whip-cracker…"

Her brows furrowed. "Really? Because I think I just wasted twenty minutes of your life."

"I'll deduct it from my pay if it makes you feel better." He winked at her before walking toward the till. "C'mon, I've gotta show you which order these need to be read in… It's kinda complicated…"

She followed him over and watched as he hopped onto a chair, twirling it around just for fun before settling his elbows on the counter.

"You seem to really enjoy your job," she noted. "I guess leaving Lima when you did agreed with you."

"Yeah…" He nodded happily. "When I moved back to Tennessee things were pretty rough. Money was tight and my parents were stressed. We had to move in with my grandma for awhile and she can be really cranky, but…" He shrugged. "Mom and dad got back on their feet and we found a place to live, two years later I was graduated and, I dunno…" His brow wrinkled thoughtfully. "It was like, the whole world was ahead of me and while everybody else was going off to college, I knew that wasn't what I wanted." He smiled up at her crookedly. "The only things that ever really made me happy in my life were music and comics…" He spread out the series she'd been looking for and pointed at them. "Even when I had nothing and was living out of a suitcase, I could lose myself in these stories… In these heroes that were all jaded and screwed up and got the shortest of all short sticks… But they did the right things and they sacrificed a lot and they always made it out all right in the end…"

She could literally see his face lighting up with the passion he held.

"So when I was done school, I just thought… I wanna spend my life doing something I love…" He shrugged. "I still sing, still write music, but what I really wanted to do was draw… So I got started on my own graphic novel and I just let it go where it needed to…" He flipped open the cover of the first comic and turned it around so it faced her. "I went through a lot of different looks for the hero… First he was just a lanky teenager who kinda looked like me… But then he became something else; something darker… Like, I wanted his insides to match his outsides, and his insides weren't always good… He was angry and resentful and he couldn't ever look at himself in the mirror…" A haunted look passed over his face. "And he was heartbroken, y'know? He tried and he tried and then, he just didn't try anymore…" He sighed thickly. "So I started off with this really badass hero that was kind of  _not_ really heroic… He didn't really save people or change the world and he didn't have super-powers… See, the beginning of the story is really all just about him figuring himself out… To fixing all that ugly stuff inside him… And then he decides he wants to do the same for others; he wants to fix them too…" He flipped through the pages quickly. "And as the series goes, you can see all this ugliness in him, even in his face and his body, it just starts melting away, until…" He grabbed the last book and turned it to the last page. "Until he _does_ look kinda like me, right?" He grinned up at her.

Rachel stared at him in awe. "That's…  _truly_ beautiful."

A flush filled his face as he ducked his head and closed the books. "Gotta start somewhere, right?"

With a hollowed throat, she shook her head. "Sam, you took your own angst and turned it into something inspirational…" She stared at him searchingly. "But, I'm confused… When I read up on the comic series, it didn't say anything about a Sam Evans." Her eyes widened, brows lifted. "Trust me, I would have noticed if it had!"

He nodded. "Yeah, well, I was young and new to the game, so I didn't want to put myself out there and get rejected… So I made up a pseudonym…" He grinned at her. "Samuel Sully… Get it? Like  _Jake_ Sully from Avatar."

She laughed, eyes brightening. "Of course!"

He shrugged. "I thought I was pretty clever at the time… Guess it worked… I've only been published three years and my work's gonna be a Broadway play…"

Shaking her head in disbelief, she stared at him. "You kind of amaze me."

His brows furrowed. "Thanks?"

She reached across the counter to squeeze his hand. "There's a lot of you that reminds me of the boy I knew in high school… You're still handsome and sweet and there's an attractive quality about you that says you're truly happy with yourself… But you've also grown up and really made something of your dreams… It's nice to see you didn't follow the jock archetype, but instead let your inner-geek flag soar…"

"Yeah… Well, I'm pretty happy about it. I mean, I've got my series and another in the works and I've got my store…" He held his hands up and grinned around at his surroundings. "Never leaves me bored."

Her eyes widened impossibly larger. "You  _own_ Comics Creed?"

"Yeah." He nodded proudly, grinning. "Well, I worked here the last few years, but when I got paid out for the series, and then they gave me some money to start my next one, I was doing so good I bought out the old owner and now she's all mine…" He raised a brow. "It's cool, right?"

She peered around the store once more, but since this was the first time she'd ever set foot in a comic book store, she couldn't say for sure it was good or bad. It was clean, though, and everything seemed to be very organized. And regardless of her history with comic books, she knew that Sam was very proud of his accomplishments, as he should be. "I think it's wonderful!" she decreed.

He laughed, seeming to know exactly what she was thinking. "Thanks." Grabbing up the series of comics, he placed them in a bag and held them out to her.

"What's my total?" she wondered, reaching for her purse.

"Call it an early 'congrats on taking over Broadway' present," he said, lifting a shoulder.

"Oh, no, I couldn't!" she argued, waving her hand. "This is your business and I want to support it any way I can…"

He stared at her a long moment. "Have dinner with me," he told her, more of a statement than a question.

She blinked. "I—I… What?"

He smiled that lopsided grin of his. "Have dinner with me tonight, Rachel." He shrugged. "We can… talk about the series if you want or… We can catch up and…" He rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. "I dunno, I just… I told myself I wouldn't let any great opportunities pass me by and I think maybe you being here today is like…  _fate_ or something."

She nodded thoughtfully. "It does seem very serendipitous…"

"Is that a yes?" he asked hopefully.

She smiled. "It is." She took the bag from his hand and then produced a pen and piece of paper from her purse.

"No pink trolley bag?" he teased gently.

She rolled her eyes, pursing her lips to keep from grinning. "Not after I rolled over a few too many toes."

He chuckled.

Writing down her number, she pushed the paper toward him. "If you change your mind, I won't be offended…" she told him, feeling a little silly now that she took in the prospect of dating a boy she hardly knew five years ago and was only now reuniting with thanks to a random meeting.

"I won't," he told her seriously, tucking the paper in his shirt pocket. He nodded his head toward the bag. "Read the third one first, then go back to the beginning, and switch five and six around…" At her confused look, he just said, "It'll make more sense that way."

Taking his word for it, she nodded. "All right, well… I… I guess I'll see you tonight." She started backing up, smiling at him one last time, cursing the way her cheeks lit up and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

"It was really great to see you today," he told her genuinely.

She swallowed tightly. She hadn't felt this attracted and excited about a man in a very long time.

With one last wave, she stepped out of his store and back out onto the streets of New York.

It wasn't five minutes later that her cell phone started trilling for attention. The generic ring tone told her it wasn't anybody in her contacts list. She answered with a hesitant, "Hello?"

"How's seven? There's a really great Thai place I know of. It's totally organic…" Sam greeted her.

Her lips turned up in a broad smile. "I like Thai."

"Then you'll love this place…"

He was right.

That night, Sam made her laugh, in a way she wasn't sure she ever had; with that genuine kind of humor, one that escaped against one's will. It was loud and robust, enough to draw attention, but he wasn't uncomfortable with it. He didn't tone down his many animated impressions just because people were staring at them, instead he made more and he took joy in the way she lit up and enjoyed his talents.

There were tears in her eyes she was laughing so hard and her sides ached with the pressure.

His cheeks were flushed with his own amusement and he smiled at her, ducking his head a little as he drew random shapes in the condensation on his water glass.

"I'm really glad you came," he told her, lifting his eyes to catch hers.

She stared back and wondered what her night might have been like if she'd made an excuse or didn't answer the phone or never walked into his store. Maybe she'd be rereading scripts, getting ready for auditions, arguing with Noah on the phone over whether or not he should take the busty blonde he'd met at the bar home (he really should start taking more precaution with his bed buddies, she didn't want a repeat of going to the clinic with him!). Maybe she'd be curled up in her favorite pajamas watching re-runs of her favorite TV shows or reading a new book, she wasn't certain. What she did know was that her evening out with Sam was the best she'd had since she arrived in New York.

"I'm really glad we met again," she returned sincerely.

"To fate… reopening doors," he said, lifting his water.

She tipped her glass against his until it clinked. "Cheers."

They stayed in that Thai restaurant long after they were full.

"You wanna get a coffee?" His brows furrowed. "Can vegans have coffee?"

"Yes. I just don't add cream," she explained, waving down a waitress and giving her their order.

Despite the fact that she was bound to get a large tip, the waitress honestly looked irritated that they were staying around, sighing as she left to get their drink order.

"I don't think she likes us," Sam said, grinning.

"Less of a turnover rate, I suppose…" At his quirked brow, she explained, "Well, the more tables she services, the more tips she garners… If we stay here, we limit her to only one tip rather than a few."

"But if we give her a  _big_ tip, does it really matter?" he asked, sitting back in his chair.

"Of course not, but she doesn't  _know_ that we're big tippers…" She smiled up at the waitress who laid down their drinks before moving to another table. "I wonder if she's an actress too… You know, the age-old stereotype that most waitresses are just failed actors…"

He blinked. "You probably shouldn't say that to her."

She laughed. "No, I probably shouldn't…"

"We'll just have to prove her wrong about the tip thing, you know," he said then, leaning in and resting his forearms on the tabletop.

"Because we wouldn't want our failed actress to think poorly of us?"

"Maybe… Or maybe 'cause this might be our place… and we wouldn't want the staff to dislike us…" His brows raised as he leaned in to tell her in a careful whisper, "They might spit in our food…"

She covered her mouth to keep in her giggle. "You really think they'd do that?"

He shrugged, pursing his lips. "We'll just have to be nice to them and come back next Thursday, test our theory…"

Her lips spread in a smile. "Are you asking me out again, Sam?"

"I think so," he agreed, nodding. "Or we could just stay together until next Friday and then it'll be the same date… eight days long…"

"I think that might be a record," she mused.

He lifted his coffee mug up to his mouth. "You wanna break a record with me, Rachel?"

She stared on at him searchingly and said quite assuredly, "I'd like to try."

When the restaurant closed, they left a large tip for the waitress, who was much friendlier as she waved goodbye to them, inviting them to come back again soon.

As they walked down the night-shadowed streets, he reached for her hand, his fingertips trailing lightly over her palm before he slid his fingers between hers and held on.

They saw a midnight screening of 1931's Frankenstein in a small theatre where the tickets were cheap, the popcorn stale, and the movies classic.

There were only six other people scattered around in seats and they sat in the very middle, their knees touching. There was something incredible attractive about how when she turned to look at him, she could see his lips moving along with the actors. Halfway through, she laid her head on his shoulder and decided this was one of the best dates she'd ever been on.

After the movie ended, he walked her home; they weren't too far from her apartment and the night air was cool and crisp. This time, she reached for his hand, listening to his animated appreciation for its sequel, Bride of Frankenstein, and how Son of Frankenstein didn't live up to its predecessors because it lacked the direction of James Whale.

"I'm talking too much," he said suddenly, shaking his head. "You can tell me to shut up."

She grinned. "I can't say I've ever been on a date where I wasn't the one doing all the talking…" She lifted a shoulder. "It's rather refreshing."

"It's something I do when I'm nervous," he explained.

She quirked her head. "We've been on this date four hours, Sam… I know I've been called intimidating, but—"

"You don't intimidate me," he interrupted her.

Her mouth hung open slightly in genuine surprise; nearly every man she'd ever dated, short or long term, pointed out that she was very daunting. "I don't?"

"No." He shook his head. "I mean… I get why people might think that… You're independent and you don't just have dreams, you're actually making them happen!" He grinned. "But that's something to be proud of, not scared of…"

Her heart skipped a beat. "That's… very insightful, Sam." Her brows knotted. "But then, why are you nervous?"

"We're almost at your apartment," he explained. "And I'm really hoping when I try to kiss you, you'll still think my lips are cute."

She laughed warmly, pressing a hand to her stomach as butterflies fluttered up a storm. "Quite possibly the cutest lips I've ever seen in my life."

"Yeah?" He raised a brow.

"Yes."

When they stopped on the stairs outside her apartment building door, anticipation made her babble. "Tonight was wonderful… In fact, I think that may be my go-to Thai restaurant from here on forward…" She nodded. "And that movie! I think I'll have to rent both Bride of Frankenstein and Son of Frankenstein to see what you meant about the difference in directors… I regret to say I don't have a very large sci-fi or horror film collection, but my eyes have been opened to their potential…" She grinned widely. "Of course, if you have any other recommendations—"

"Rachel," he interrupted, smiling knowingly. "I think you're nervous."

"No! No, I…" She breathed out a quick sigh. "Yes. Very. I—I don't even know  _why,_  because you've already warned me that you would try to kiss me and I already made up my mind that I would encourage it. In fact, I basically promised I would. But now we're here and you look so  _handsome_ in this lighting and the night has already been so wonderful and I'm a little worried I might wake up any second, because I'm afraid as much of a romantic as I am, my love life has been sorely lacking in worthwhile gentlemen, and it's probably far too early to be making this deduction, but I believe you could  _be_ that gentleman and I—"

He kissed her.

It wouldn't be the first, or last, time she was kissed into shutting up. It  _would_  be the last  _man_ to do so, however. Not that she knew that when it was happening.

All she knew was that he tasted like Mike Ike's and orange soda and his very cute lips felt absolutely perfect against her own. The tension of wondering if it would feel good, if the chemistry she was feeling between them would translate into something physical, of worrying she might accidentally bite him and ruin the moment, bled away. Her hands flattened against his chest, feeling the hard plains beneath his shirt, the heat radiating off him, sink into her palms. With a soft sigh, she leaned in full-body, sliding her hands up to around his neck, fingers curling in the ends of his blond hair. His arms banded around her waist, gripping the back of her jacket tight as he drew her up into him. And when the frenzied, heated kiss turned into something slower, something lingering, she found the tips of her toes were balanced on the tops of his shoes, so she could get herself closer to his height. She flushed at the knowledge, while he grinned. Stepping back, she let her hands slide down his chest before retracting them to her sides.

"Still cute," she murmured.

He nodded, trying and failing to smother his smile. Flicking his hair out of his eyes in an absent gesture, he looked at her again. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Renting Frankenstein's Bride," she answered easily.

"Good... We can watch it at my place." He started walking backwards down the stairs. "If you want to."

Her lips were still tingling when she said very seriously, "Oh, I want to."

And that was how it began.

One break-out role, an eight-book series, a random reunion, Frankenstein, and the best Thai food she'd ever had in her life.

Sometimes, six years later, she wondered if she would be as happy as she was now if she hadn't walked into Comics Creed; if she hadn't been as dedicated to Broadway and being the best actress she could be; if she hadn't taken Sam up on his dinner-date. But she had, and she could honestly say that her life, which had already been out-of-the-stratosphere wonderful, had only gotten better.

Every Thursday after that was their undisputed Thai night. If they didn't have the energy or time to go out, they ordered in, eating out of boxes either in the back room of his comic book store or on the floor of their apartment. She wowed the directors and got the main female role in his series, even if it was a villain, and she gathered rave reviews for her performance. She caught her big-break and she never failed to tell Sam that it was a fifty-fifty effort between them.

"You're the star talent here, Rach," he reminded, quite humbly if she did say so herself.

She shook her head, reaching out to brush his sun kissed hair from his eyes. "Sam… If I didn't have as much insight into the character as you've given me, I wouldn't be  _half_ as convincing on stage…"

His lips quirked in that smile of his. "Nobody else could do her justice." Before she could argue, he'd tap her nose with the end of the pencil he kept behind his ear, just in case inspiration struck at any given moment, and she knew once more that he wasn't willing to take any of the praise heaped on her.

His Broadway adapted-series made the rounds, gathering more and more fans, and Rachel put her all into her villainous character until they finally called the curtain more than a year later. There were promises of picking it back up in a couple more years and letting the hype grow some more, but in the mean time, Rachel had continued auditioning for other roles, now having the pick of the litter. And while she broadened her stage career, Sam was working on his next great series. She couldn't count how many days were spent between them, in the apartment or at a nearby park, or at their favorite coffee shop; her with a script in hand and him scribbling on his pad, working out angles and shading and story arcs.

Her best memories involved black smudged fingertips trailing along her skin; full pink lips following in their wake. Perfect, pale skin pressed against her own tanned body.

Rachel hadn't had many lovers in her lifetime; aside from an ill-conceived first few times with Finn her senior year of high school, she'd had only two other boyfriends since coming to New York. One of them was quite possibly less coordinated than Finn; a feat she never thought possible. While the other was the best of the three, but she hardly had much to compare him to, and in the end she realized he was a far more selfish lover than she deserved. When she and Sam became intimate, she'd been hesitant. They'd been dating exclusively for three months and while the heat between them was palpable, she was scared that it would dim or fizzle out as soon as they changed anything. These last few months had been the sweetest she could remember; afternoon picnics in Central Park, evenings of wine and take-out while he picked at the strings of his guitar and they shared their days' events with each other. In all honesty, she couldn't say she'd had a better boyfriend before him. He fit into her romantic expectations a lot more than her previous suitors; all of whom she'd wanted more from and received far less.

Sam had been patient with her. There were many nights they'd been heatedly making out when his hands wandered beneath clothes and explored parts of her that, had she been in the same situation when she knew him in high school she certainly wouldn't have let him go, and even still eventually made him slow down. As much as she enjoyed his every touch, she also wanted to be sure that what they had wasn't going to dissipate too soon. And if she were being honest, she was a little worried she wouldn't be quite as appealing when their clothes were shed, leading the abundance of sexual tension to a very anticlimactic end. From where she was standing, this made a lot of sense. Here was a boy whose first love was Quinn Fabray; she was all porcelain skin and blond hair and perfectly shaped even for someone who had a child at sixteen. In comparison, Rachel felt awkward; she had small breasts and, while it was often in jest, she had been called Hobbit and Midget much of her life. Her body, in her mind, was stubby and disproportionate. But when Sam laid her back on her bed and started stripping clothes off her, lips kissing each bared inch, fingers cradling her hips and kneading her breasts and stroking her thighs, she started forgetting what she might look like.

And then he took his shirt off.

She stared. She'd seen him shirtless before, of course. Sam wasn't shy about that, really. He walked around his apartment topless all the time and she'd spent a good portion of the last three months ogling him. She'd had her hands up his shirt a number of times before she ever decided she was ready to sleep with him. And she could plainly remember the Rocky Horror Picture Show fiasco of junior year when he'd been wearing little more than the tiniest gold shorts ever produced. But when she was wearing hardly more than a lacy pink thong and he was bearing the most attractively chiseled chest she'd ever seen in her life, she suddenly thought she probably did resemble a troll or gnome in comparison. He saw her face drop and immediately he slowed down, hands dropping to her knees and tickling her lightly with his thumb.

"What's wrong?"

She was honestly a little touched by the concern in his voice. Most other men would likely be frustrated that she was suddenly so skittish when seconds ago she'd been purring under their ministrations. "I…" Her brow wrinkled and she shook her head. "I cannot compete with—with  _that!_ " she finally said, motioning to his perfectly sculpted pectorals and his terribly beautiful six pack of abdominal muscles.

He laughed; that insufferably attractive low chuckle of his. And then he flicked his head to get his hair out of his eyes in a way that she had previously thought was really, very adorable. Now she wanted to glare at him for being so rottenly good looking. Still grinning, he leaned in and kissed her pouting lips, before lying down between her legs, the length of him pressed along her body. Despite her anger, her breath hitched when she felt the outline of his erection pressing through his pants and against the apex of her thighs. Trying not to buck up to meet the pressure there, her hands found his biceps, squeezing distractedly.

"Rachel?"

"Hm?" she hummed, still trying to keep her hormones in check. As much as she was feeling insecure, there was a very sexually desperate part of her that just wanted to tear off the rest of his clothes and beg him to get inside her.

"You remember when I told you how I used to eat whole bags of Doritos and then sneak away to the gym and spend hours trying not to feel fat?" he asked in a simple, accepting tone.

Her eyes lifted to his and the haze of desire faded some. She nodded slowly. Of  _course_  she remembered the in-depth conversation they'd had about his body dysmorphic disorder. She fully supported him in his recovery; it wasn't always easy and he still questioned himself and what he ate sometimes. But he'd come a long way from the insecure teenager he'd been, constantly pinching his body, searching for excess body fat where there was none. He'd gone to counseling and writing his series had helped him overcome a lot of his problems; or at least helped him recognize them properly. In her eyes, she couldn't begin to see what Sam did. His body was beautiful; sculpted to perfection.

"Well, it was stupid… I mean, you look at me and I know you see something awesome… I can see it in your eyes and I can feel it…" He smirked. "I know you're hot for me right now."

She rolled her eyes, amused.

"But back then, I wouldn't have seen that… I would've thought  _you_ were the one who was seeing things wrong…" He stared at her searchingly. "Rachel… You're  _beautiful_ … Not just to  _me_ , but I hope to you, too…" He dragged a thumb along her cheek slowly before his hand drifted down her neck, across her collar bone, sliding weightlessly, nothing but his fingertips skimming between the valley of her breasts, before settling his large, warm palm against her stomach. "I love your curves…" He buried a kiss at her throat. "I love how soft your skin is…" His nose slid along the slope of her clavicle. "I love your big brown eyes and your always shiny hair…" He grinned as she laughed softly, and rubbed his cheek along the curve of her left breast. "I love how you feel under me and wrapped around me and how short you are… 'Cause you fit right into my side…" His fingers flared out and dipped low, grabbing the side of her thong and dragging it down the flare of her hip. She arched herself up to help him strip it away. The pads of his fingers followed the length of her leg as she curved them up so he could reach back and remove her panties entirely, tossing them to the floor. He slid his hand back up the inside of her thigh and her whole body shook with awareness. "I love how you smell; how it lingers whenever you hug me. I love the way you taste…" His eyes darted to her lips. "And how you bite down when you get excited…"

Her lips parted on a gasp as his fingers started tracing and exploring the slick folds of her sex.

She watched his face, how his eyes darkened to a mossy green and his cheeks flushed deeper with arousal.

"I love your boobs; how they fit perfectly in my hands…" He nuzzled one with his nose, rasping his chin, prickly with faint whiskers, along the underside. "And your pretty pink nipples…" He flatted his tongue against one and drew it between his lips, suckling her in the same moment two of his long fingers dipped inside her, plunging deep.

She made an intelligible noise from the back of her throat and didn't even try to stop her hips from rocking up to meet his slowly thrusting fingers.

"I love your tiny waist and your legs that go on forever…" he said, nibbling his way up to her shoulder. "I love every inch of your body and I want to show you how much…" He swiped her clit with his thumb and her chest arced forward, fingers digging into his biceps almost painfully. His jaw ticked as he watched her reaction, her eyes fluttering but not closing, her breath coming out in harsh pants between her lips. "Let me show you how beautiful you are…" He didn't let her answer before his lips were on hers, tongue seeking the heated tangle of hers, laving at the seam of her mouth before she opened eagerly.

While his body pressed her more firmly into the bed, she lifted her leg up high, proud of her own flexibility, and curled her toes around the side of his jeans, wanting to shove them off and away. He chuckled into her mouth before he reached down and gave her knee a squeeze, disengaging it from its mission. She hardly had a chance to question him before he'd crawled down her and replaced his fingers with his mouth, his hands pressing her thighs apart.

In all honesty, this was only the third time she'd had a man's mouth on her. The two previous times were with the only lover worth mentioning and he'd spent a good long time not finding anything that would give her anything resembling satisfaction. Both times, she ended up pretending she'd climaxed just so he'd stop poking around down there. That was not the case with Sam. She wasn't sure where he learned his  _cunnilingus_  technique from, but she was a little worried if she asked he might say Santana, so she just decided to not question her good fortune. What she did know for certain was that he knew what felt good, what didn't, and he wasn't afraid to ask just to be sure. She had bypassed heaven and went straight to euphoric bliss when his fingers and tongue and even the tip of his nose joined in to stimulate everything to a humming, continuous perfection. He kept her on edge for far too long, bringing her close and then taking her away. Stimulated to the point of near begging, she dug her nails into his shoulder and knew he was about to take her there as soon as she felt his smile. The following crescendo was enough to make her dizzy, stealing her vocabulary from her until she was just a shaking, panting, ecstatic mess.

Still vibrating, somehow weak and yet right on the edge of ultimate strength, she reached down and threaded her fingers in his messy blond hair, while he rested his cheek against her thigh, smirking up at her in accomplishment. Lazily, she dragged her thumb across his shiny lips and brought it up to her own mouth, letting her tongue dab the corner in curiosity. His smile was replaced immediately with the dark flash of need. When he sat up this time, hands falling to the button and fly of his jeans, and she stared on at that perfect chest of his, she didn't feel any insecurity at all; just white hot anticipation. With every muscle coiled tightly, jumping as he shoved his jeans and briefs down his thighs and out of the way, letting her feet come up to help kick them completely free, she spread her legs wider and welcomed him against the curves of her body.

He grabbed a condom from his jeans pocket, tore it open with his teeth, and rolled it on in one fluid motion before he was kneading her widened thighs and aligning himself with her. She reached down to guide him in, toes curling in the twisted sheets as she felt the head of his cock against her clit, circling it slowly, teasing them both, before finally she maneuvered it to her opening and felt him sink into her, filling her. With one quick thrust, he was imbedded entirely to the hilt, while he bent himself over her, burying a hand in her hair at the nape of her neck and lifting her head up to meet his lips. She shrieked into his mouth as he pulled out only to plunge back in, rubbing  _just right_ against her g-spot. He kept kissing her, panting into her mouth as he moved in and out of her with a slow, teasing grace.

When her nails scraped down his back, needing more, he buried his face at her neck and sucked on her racing pulse, raging beneath her skin. Her legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing, encouraging him to go faster, but he kept at his torturously wonderful pace. Dropping his head lower, his mouth found her breasts again, tongue and teeth teasing her nipples. He didn't stop her when she twisted her hips and ground her clit against him. He dropped a hand down to help, circling and flicking until she came around him, losing her breath entirely as bursts of light flickered behind her closed eyelids. He waited out the clenching of her walls, milking him, desperate for him to come too. But when she came back down, muscles still spasming, he picked up where he left off, hiking her leg up higher on his side and increasing his strokes to just a little faster than before.

She dragged her hands up his back, feeling it clench and move beneath her questing fingers, before she buried them in his sweaty, tangled hair, curling her nails up and down his neck. When she could feel herself building up to another orgasm, she turned the tables on him. Suddenly, he was the one on his back and she was in control. She expected the slightly offended look she'd gotten from two of her past boyfriends, or even the confused 'is that really okay?' expression that Finn had given her. But when he just grinned up at her, his hands falling to the tops of hers thighs, she thought he might just blow every one of her expectations out of the water. Since he'd spent much of their coupling worshiping her body, she felt he deserved the same back. And she was happy to let her mouth wander over every hard plain of his chest and along the column of his neck, where she could still faintly smell the musky scent of his cologne clinging to his sweat-dotted skin. His ribs were ticklish; she swept her tongue over them and then her fingertips and nuzzled them with her nose while he laughed and searched for her ticklish spots with those long, guitar-calloused fingers of his. She kneaded the tight muscles of his shoulders while she rode him, twisting and circling and rocking her hips every which way as she sunk down on every hard inch of him.

He was larger than all three of her former boyfriends. Just marginally more so than Finn, at least in girth, but he was longer than all three of them by a surprising bit. She had a fleeting moment where she wondered if she'd able to fit all of him into her mouth and then simply decided she would have to find out later. Living up to her silent promise, she woke him up the next morning with the pleasant surprise of her swallowing him down her throat. She was proud to say she was fairly sure even Santana Lopez never elicited that kind of reaction before, because he'd stared on in awe at her for at least an hour after that. Miss Pillsbury hadn't been kidding when she said that lack of gag-reflex would come in handy later in life.

She knew exactly when he was at the edge. His fingers were pressing deep against her hips, his knuckles white with pressure, and the muscles in his stomach were clenched tight. His jaw kept ticking and one of his eyes fell shut; it was really almost a comical expression on his face, though she doubted he would appreciate her saying so. When his hand slid between them and his thumb started working her clit, she lost herself in the sensation. So much so that she was caught off-guard when he maneuvered her onto her back and took control back. She wasn't complaining however as he picked up his pace and circled her clit into a frenzy while he sucked her nipple and fucked her into the mattress.

And then it wasn't fireworks or bursts of light, it was like a supernova going off deep inside her. She thought she knew what an orgasm was before, but she wondered if perhaps there were levels to them. This one being a perfect ten out of ten. The combination of the stimulation happening all over, which was something she couldn't say any man had perfected with her in the past, was exactly what she needed. And she came with a hoarse cry of his name that echoed through her apartment, and no doubt a few others both on the level below and above her. She  _was_ a singer after all, and she had amazing vocal range.

His thick grunt of her name against her breast was intimately perfect.

She laid with her eyes closed, one arm tossed over her face, the other hand buried in his hair, while his thrusts became slow, shallow movements as his hips lost their rhythm. He didn't move off of her right away, whether from exhaustion or comfort she wasn't sure. His forehead pressed against her chest and she could feel warm puffs of panting breath against her skin. One of his hands was still curled around her hips, his thumb stroking back and forth, and she thought that may well have been the first time she actually  _made love_. She had loved Finn, enough so that she had given him her virginity, but they were teenagers and neither of them had much of an idea what they were doing or what love really was. That night with Sam, however, she was aware of who they were together more so than she'd ever been in a relationship prior.

As her mind wandered, he gathered his energy to pull out, standing on shaky legs as he moved to discard the condom. She couldn't find the strength to open her eyes or move. But moments later, nearly asleep in her lethargy, she felt a warm cloth between her legs and her heart leapt up into her throat. She opened her eyes then out of sheer adoration and found a yawning Sam, dressed in his briefs again, taking care of her in the most intimate of ways. He tossed the cloth in her laundry basket and then climbed up the bed, dragging her over and into his side, dropping a kiss against her temple before he sighed deeply, contently.

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

She stared up at him, the city lights filtering through the window and lighting him up faintly. "I am," she agreed.

And that, as she lay holding a man who'd made her feel far more special than she had in her entire life, was the last time Rachel Berry ever questioned her looks.

Of course, their relationship wasn't a whirlwind of perfection. They had their disagreements, and even broke up once a little over a year after their first date.

Rachel wasn't known for her patience; it was a flaw she had long ago embraced. So when, after a year, her boyfriend had yet to tell her 'I love you,' and she firmly argued that saying 'I See You' in Na'vi did  _not_ count, she made it clear to him that she couldn't be the only person in their relationship willing to put it all on the line.

She knew he'd been hurt before; even outside of Quinn and Santana, and she resented that she might be lumped in with them in any way, he'd dated after them and his relationships had been rocky. He was quick to falling in love, much like her, and letting girls' know that often led to heartbreak for him. So he learned his lesson and preferred not to get burned again. She understood that in the beginning, he'd been honest with her when he shared that he was kind of scared to fall in love again, but that didn't mean he wanted to hand in the towel before they had a chance to be something great. It wasn't long after they slept together that she told him she loved him, quick to add that she didn't expect him to say it back. And he'd smiled at her, a little hesitant, a little hopeful, before he took her face in his hands and kissed her firmly, and she convinced herself that she didn't need to hear the words because she could see it in his eyes that he felt the same. But then a few months passed, and a few more, and before she knew it, they'd been together an entire year.

He'd murmured it in her ear at night, behind the safety of Na'vi, " _Oel ngati kameie_."

And sometimes he replied with, "Me too," when she said goodbye or when they were lying together post-coital. But it wasn't the same.

So finally she told him she couldn't do it anymore…

"I know you care," she breathed shakily, staring up at him through the blur of her eyes. "I know that this last year has been amazing between us and—And I see it in your eyes, in the way you smile when you see me, but…" She wiped at her face with the backs of her hands. "But every time I say it and you don't, I feel a piece of my heart die and…" She swallowed thickly. "I've always been told I shouldn't wear my heart on my sleeve, that it's stolen too easily and returned broken… I had high hopes it would be different this time." She shook her head. "I won't spend my life waiting for those words, Sam… I  _won't_."

She fled, quickening her steps every time she heard him call her name.

She hadn't seen him for three weeks and she avoided the whole block in which his store resided. There were times when she wrote out whole texts to him, only to realize just before she sent them that it was inappropriate to be sharing those anecdotes with him now. That they were over and while she still loved him, it was healthy that she gave him space and moved on.

She didn't think she was being demanding or overdramatic; she thought she was being just the right amount of needy.

But that didn't stop her from going to the open mic bar they attended every Friday night for a long-solidified date. Sure, she spent much of the night nit-picking at amateur artists and trying not to cry when someone sang a song she remembered Sam singing in the past. And every time she saw blond hair out the corner of her eyes, she stared hopefully until she could see their face, disappointed each time.

It was nearly midnight and she was sure she should just head home when she received the text.

_Your here._

Her heart leapt up into her throat and she barely restrained herself from searching the crowd desperately. Three weeks seemed like a very short time really, but after all that had happened, when she used to spend every day with him, she felt like it'd been forever since she'd seen his lopsided smile or brushed his hair out of his eyes or felt his lips against hers. She missed waking up in the morning and feeling his warm body wrapped around her, his fingers tangled in her hair. She missed seeing his body wash in her shower and hearing him sing as he got ready before work. She missed wearing his super-hero themed t-shirts around the house and how he always borrowed her chapstick.

She hesitated to reply, not sure what she was supposed to say. Finally, she typed out,  _Where are you?_

She chewed her lip as she waited for a response, staring at her phone, willing it to trill with the promise of his reply.

One minute passed, and then five, and just as she was giving up hope the microphone on stage emitted a tiny squeak, drawing her eyes. She looked up and found him, sitting there on the stool, guitar in hand.

Tears filled her eyes immediately and her breath whooshed out of her. He looked  _wonderful_. She wanted to be angry that he wasn't a mess, falling apart over their break-up, but that was really just the drama-queen inside of her.

He smiled around at the crowd and cast a look at her before he adjusted the strap over his shoulder. He didn't introduce himself or make any conversation with his listeners, that's what she usually did when she dragged him up there for a duet. Instead, he just started strumming, clearing his throat discreetly.

And finally, that smooth, velvety voice of his reached out and squeezed her heart.

_I miss those brown eyes,  
How you kissed me at night,  
I miss the way we sleep…  
Like there's no sunrise,  
Like the taste of your smile,  
I miss the way we breathe…_

He swallowed tightly before lifting his eyes and finding her.

Heart racing, her hands clasped together and pressed tight against her chest.

She met his gaze steadily, forgetting the crowd around them.

_But I never told you,  
What I should have said…  
No I never told you,  
I just held it in…  
And now I miss everything about you…  
I can't believe that I still want you…  
After all the things we've been through,  
I miss everything about you,  
Without you, oh…_

Her breath escaped on a shaky sigh and her eyes filled with tears, blurring her vision of him. With a tilted, sad smile, she wiped her eyes quickly.

He licked his lips, his jaw ticking, and he ducked his head a little, singing deeply.

_I see your brown eyes,  
Every time I close mine,  
You make it hard to see…  
Where I belong to,  
when I'm not around you,  
It's like I'm not with me…_

As he moved into the chorus again, she wanting nothing more than to put the whole thing behind them and return to how things had been. Get back to visiting him in the store, listening as he rambled on about this series or that, trying to explain the complicated mythos behind each character. Those days where he wouldn't shave or shower or leave his work station for more than a few hours of sleep, so focused on his latest project. Lazy mornings where she woke up to him nibbling on her shoulder, stripping her clothes off before he slid sinuously between her legs for sleepy, slow sex. She wanted it all back.

And then he was staring at her again and she could see the same heartbreak she was feeling written on his face.

_But I never told you,  
What I should have said,  
No I never told you,  
I just held it in…  
And now I miss everything about you,  
Still you're gone…  
I can't believe that I still want you,  
After loving you, I never should have walked away…  
After all the things we've been through,  
I know, it's never gonna come again…  
I miss everything about you,  
Without you, oh…  
Oh no, no…_

As his guitar faded away, it was just him sitting there, with slumped shoulders and that lost look on his face.

Swallowing thickly, she stood from her chair, her knees weak, and made her way through the now clapping and whistling crowd.

When she hit the stage, there was a moment of uncertainty, but she shoved it down and held a hand out for him.

He stared at it in surprise, and then at her in hope, and he took it, following her right out of the club.

She waved a cab down and the ride back to her apartment was silent, but he gripped her hand hard, squeezing her fingers tight between his, like he was expecting her to let go any second.

She didn't.

Paying the cabbie, she climbed out and made her way into her apartment building, drawing him along with her as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. She only released his hand when she stepped inside her cozy home so she could strip off her jacket.

He wasn't as quick to let go.

Smiling up at him knowingly, she reached past him to close the door, locking it behind them. "Are you thirsty?"

"I'm  _stupid_ ," he replied.

Her brows furrowed, lips pursed. "Sam, we've talked about this… That word has been stricken from our vocabulary…"

He rolled his eyes a little. "Only when it comes to my dyslexia… But this? All this—this really  _stupid_ shit I pulled?" He shook his head, teeth clenched. "I-I fucked up, Rachel."

Chewing her lip, she said dismissively, "I think you've been spending too much time with Noah, his easy use of profanity has rubbed off on you."

He sighed. "Yeah, well, he was the only friend I had that would put up with me when I was depressed about our break-up…" He finally let go of her, but only to kick off his shoes and strip off his own jacket. Then he took her hand and dragged her over to the couch, pulling her down so she sat much closer to him that she was ready for. "I guess three Fridays of drinking our faces off and bitching about good women we don't deserve was too much to ask for… When I called him tonight, he told me to find my balls and fix this mess…" His eyes fell. "He was right and I should've fixed it when it happened, but I was just… I dunno, I got scared and you were gone and it all happened so  _fast_ …"

"It was a  _year_ , Sam…" she argued, frowning. "I gave you a  _year!_ "

"No, not that… That…" He smiled shakily. "That was awesome. I mean, that night… You were just, you were crying and you were saying all these things and I-I couldn't even make out a lot of what you were saying at first, but then you were gone and I… I realized you weren't coming back and it…" He ducked his head, reaching up to drag his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture. "It scared the  _shit_ out of me, Rachel… Because suddenly, I realized I didn't know what my life was gonna be like without you! And I didn't  _want_ to know and that… That's a lot to handle!"

Brows furrowed, she stared at him, somewhat confused. "You didn't fix things because you wanted to have a future with me…?" she repeated. "That makes absolutely  _no_ sense."

He grinned, licking his lips. "Because I realized that being with you and—and  _loving_ you was… It was this big  _forever_ kind of thing…" He looked up at her. "I couldn't say I loved you because that meant when you dumped me, I'd get hurt again… Like I  _always_ do… But I did love you! I-I  _do_ love you. It was just…" He sighed, shaking his head. "I was trying not to get hurt, but I pushed you away and it hurt anyway and—and  _you_ were hurt and I—I told you, I'm  _stupid_ …" He shook his head, angry with himself. "What I did, what I  _didn't_ do, it was—It was just  _stupid!_ "

She pieced it together, understanding finally what had happened and why and how. "Sam…" she said gently. "I… I can't promise you that we won't ever hurt each other… I can't say that in a year from now you won't fall out of love with me or complications won't arise and we just won't work out, but…" She gripped both his hands in hers. "But I can guarantee that when we're together, I will put my  _all_ into our relationship… And that 'all' includes my heart, and I would hope yours too…" She inhaled deeply. "I know your previous relationships have burned you, I've had a few of them myself, but I think we're different… I think I can be different for you… And I already know you're different for me. So…" She stared at him earnestly. "I love you and I want us to explore this for as long as we can."

He nodded, swallowing thickly. "Yeah."

She smiled. "Good."

"Really good." He dragged her over, hugging him into his side, and pressed his face down against her hair, kissing her head. "I really missed you, Rach…"

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "I missed you, too."

They sat there just embracing one another for a long while before he said, "Hey?" And when she looked up at him, he grinned. "What are the odds you'd be there tonight? That we'd run into each other like that…?"

She smiled. "Very serendipitous," she agreed.

He kissed her, and she felt more complete than she had in weeks.

In the six years of their relationship, Rachel learned a few things.

Sam spoke fluent Na'vi and often cursed in it when he was really frustrated. He also occasionally used it to tell her things he knew she wouldn't like so he could avoid getting in trouble but could still say he told her so she couldn't accuse him of avoiding the issue. He was rather sneaky like that.

Sigourney Weaver was a seriously underrated actress; Sam would be the first to point this out during any and all of her films, of which he owned every one.

Muses were not easily held onto and when Sam's decided to take a vacation, he turned into a grumpy toddler that spent far too many hours in his comic book store and glaring at the work table set up in their apartment.

Loving someone and being in love were two very different things; what she felt for Sam far eclipsed any feelings she'd had for any man before him.

While religion was important to one's peace of mind and general enlightenment, it wasn't worth losing somebody she truly cared about. So if he wanted to go to church on Sundays while she attended her synagogue with Noah on Saturdays, then weekends were simply personal time.

Plants did not survive well when under the care of two career-minded people who spent the majority of what time they had at home in bed, cuddling on the couch, or eating take-out on the balcony.

As much as she admired perfect grammar, Sam's dyslexia wasn't easily overcome, but that in no way, shape or form, made him dumb, stupid, or behind the curve. He was one of the smartest men she knew, he just showed it in different ways.

Being accepted by her peers compared very little to accepting herself for who she was. While she knew she would never be the most beloved person to ever live, Rachel couldn't ask for a better best friend or boyfriend or family. And regardless of whether the bullies that harassed her or the gleeks that probably never gave her a second thought ever regretted how they treated her, Rachel refused to live in the past. She liked who she was and so did Sam, flaws and all.

Open mic nights were great for dates. Sam kept his guitar in top form and Rachel's voice was never disappointing to hear; blending the two together made for a fun evening every time. Sure, they were the too-cute couple that planned out ballads ahead of time just so they could sing them to each other, like a weekly homework assignment that they both really loved, but she wasn't complaining. It kept their musical tastes broad, introducing them to new bands, and she was always happy to swoon over his voice.

Family was extremely important to him; he called his parents once a week whenever possible and even offered to take Stevie and Stacey off their hands when they wanted to go on a vacation one summer. He was happy to spend Hanukah with her family and she showed the same support by joining him in Tennessee for Christmas.

Blending their two apartments was both eye-opening and surprising. He was all bright colors like oranges and blues and yellows while she liked reds and pinks and purples. It made for a very a lively home where sci-fi and classic cinema met in their floor to ceiling DVD case, musical tastes ranged from Barbra to Biebs, and the walls were covered in framed playbills and theatre posters next to autographed comic books, action figures and photos of them, their friends and family. Their fridge held an array of vegan-friendly food mixed in with his high protein diet. She imagined, to some, it might look chaotic or completely opposite, but in her eyes it was beautiful to see how it all melded together.

There were going to be difficulties in any relationship and they would always have their disagreements. But every night when they went to bed, they did so knowing that the other would be there in the morning and they would work through their issues. They weren't perfect, there were miscommunications, but the time never came when she ever regretted meeting him or giving them a second chance.

Noah Puckerman, while her best friend and closest confidant, still abided by the bro-code. So when he knew Rachel was upset with Sam about something, he gave his 'brother-from-another-mother' the heads up, so he could fix it before he got into too much trouble.

While Fantasy Football made very little sense to her, she was happy to have an evening to herself, getting together with her girlfriends on occasion and simply enjoying the space provided. What fantasies she did understand of his involved a gold bikini and his light saber; she was all for bringing her superior acting skills into the bedroom.

Getting a Tony at twenty-five was an indescribably amazing achievement, marrying the most incredible man she'd ever had the privilege to love was her greatest accomplishment.

At twenty-eight years old, Rachel returned to Lima, Ohio without a chip on her shoulder and with no expectations that the town or the people that lived in it would welcome her with a parade or even open arms. While she'd left as a teenager with big dreams and even bigger plans for revenge, she returned a changed woman. Well, in many ways, at least. She was still brimming with the kind of talent that anybody in their right mind would envy and she wouldn't hesitate to tell people that. But she wasn't the insecure little girl who'd walked out into the big, unexplored world and expected to overcome it and, in the wise words of Noah Puckerman, 'make it her bitch.' She met hardships and she tripped a number of times on her road to success. Thankfully, she had Noah to lean on when she'd first arrived in the big apple, and he stood by her through two years of Tisch and every lackluster audition that hardly had her making it past greeting the director. And just four years after leaving Lima, with a few good plays under her belt and her name slowly but surely rising, she found her footing. She _re_ -found her soul mate, though she didn't believe that was who he was when they first met. They each had some growing to do, some dreams to reach for, before they found each other again and made a real go at forever.

The boy Sam had been when she'd first met him was not who she married three years ago. He wasn't insecure or worried about what people might think about his many impressions and admittedly bad jokes. He was an artist and a business owner, a husband and a lover of all things geeky and sci-fi. He was who she turned to when anything electronic needed fixing, who she relied on when her car wouldn't start, and who she asked for help when she couldn't get jars opened. He was sweet and generous, funny and loving, happy and friendly, and above all else, unapologetically  _himself_. He owned his big lips and his geeky side and his body dysmorphia. He proudly stood up and gave his wife a standing ovation at every opening night, a dozen pink roses in hand, and giddily talked her into going to every comic-con within driving distance. He loved her dads like they were his own and supported them each year, walking side-by-side with her in the gay pride parade, donning a shirt that read:  _I'm proud of my wife's two dads_.

The reunion being held at McKinley was not something she spent much time thinking over. Other than to make sure her schedule was free and that Sam had somebody to cover for him at Comics Creed for the three days surrounding the date of her high school reunion, she didn't let herself mull it over very much. She was aware that Mr. Shuester had arranged for the former glee club to meet up in the choir room for one last hurrah, bringing them all together to bond and get reacquainted. If she were being honest, yes, she did get a song or two (or six, just to be safe), ready for the inevitable sing-off that was bound to occur. And really, there was a small part of her that was excited to see what her fellow gleeks had accomplished. Did Kurt and Mercedes get their fashion line? Did Artie work with computers or music? Was Tina a famous artist now? Did Mike still dance? Had Santana and Britney broken out on the modeling scene? Did Finn take over the Hummel Tires store? Was Quinn a real estate agent? And were they happily married? These were all things she was genuinely interested in knowing. But in all honesty, she could live her life not knowing and be just as happy.

Still, when the invitation arrived, she made sure she and Sam RSVP'd. It would be nice to get out of New York. They hadn't seen her parents since Christmas the year prior, choosing to spend Easter (or for her, a part of Passover), with his parents in Tennessee. Her dads were happy to have them, making sure the guest room, previously  _her_ room but long remodeled, was ready for their arrival. The flight in was exhausting and they were both yawning by the time her daddy Hiram picked them up from the airport. Since Noah had taken an earlier flight in to visit with his mom and sister, they knew they probably wouldn't be seeing him again until the early-reunion in the choir room and passed on their hellos to the Puckerman family.

The first night back in town, they ordered in take-out and watched movies while they dozed off and on in their room. When they found out BreadstiX was still up and running, they considered going for old time's sake, but were too tired, and so instead agreed to stop in before they returned home. The next morning, Rachel felt a spark of déjà vu when she went downstairs, still half-asleep, to hear her dads bickering over whether the coffee was too strong. A fond smile tilted her lips as she took a seat at the island and plucked a banana from the fruit bowl.

"I thought Sam and I bought you separate coffee pots for just this reason," Rachel reminded, raising her eyebrows.

"And that was very thoughtful… but  _unnecessary_ ," her daddy Leroy told her simply. "We wouldn't  _need_ two pots, if your father would just let it percolate for a proper amount of time."

Hiram scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I like my coffee  _hot_ , dear… If I let it sit there as long as you wanted me to, I'd have to toss it in the microwave after."

"Do you  _hear_ him? He's so  _dramatic!_ "

Rachel simply grinned at them, enjoying their morning ritual.

"Smells good in here," Sam's voice interrupted as he crossed the kitchen floor, stopping just behind her chair to kiss the top of her head before he took the seat next to her and grabbed up an apple from the bowl, rubbing it to a shine on his faded X-Men's shirt.

" _See!_ " Hiram said, motioning to them. " _Sam_ knows good coffee!"

"What does the  _smell_ have to do with how  _strong_ it is?"

"Oh, you're just being difficult now!"

Sam chuckled under his breath, sharing an amused smile with her.

She shrugged. "And apparently they don't use the coffee pot we got them…"

He wasn't the least bit perturbed. "I still say we should've got them those gardening books… Hiram had Leroy build that garden in the back before he ever actually looked into planting anything…" He grinned widely. "They thought they were growing potatoes last year but it was all just weeds…"

Rachel rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Fine… Gardening books for his birthday then…" She bit her lip. "You'll have to remind me to put it on the list."

He nodded, taking a giant bite out of his apple and leaning back in his chair. "You wanna check out the Lima Bean? Grab some coffee they won't grill us about?"

She breathed out a sigh of relief. "I love the way your mind works!" Hopping out of her chair, she stumbled slightly when the pant leg of her pajamas caught on the chair, nearly causing her to take a spill on the floor.

Sam was there in an instant, his expression stricken with worry. "You all right?" He gripped her hips, thumbs rubbing.

She patted his chest soothingly. "We're fine." When he didn't look completely convinced, she grinned. "Sam… I have the balance of a  _ballerina!_  If you didn't notice, I caught myself just fine."

He nodded jerkily, but didn't take his hands off her as he walked her back upstairs to their room.

After they were dressed in light clothing, the summer heat already beginning to roll in as the last few weeks of spring faded away, they borrowed Leroy's Prius to drive into town to their old watering hole. While the sign had been renovated to something more flashy and eye-catching, the Lima Bean was still essentially the same hang out it had been in her youth. Circling the car, she reached instantly for Sam's hand, feeling his fingers slide easily between her own, and after falling in step with him, rested her head against his shoulder as they made their way toward the somewhat crowded coffee shop. The faces that surrounded them were unfamiliar, many of them much younger, getting their morning brew before heading off to school, but occasionally the odd adult on their way to work could be seen. She thought she might have spotted Karofsky, but couldn't be sure and so chalked it up to an overworked imagination.

With a coffee for Sam and a tea for her, they made their way to a table near the window and settled in. The dull roar of the patrons soothed her in the way that they resembled the noise of New York. While she picked at her scone, she reflected on memories from her past; of enjoying these same pastries with Kurt or Mercedes and even on occasion the whole of glee club, piled around a couple tables shoved together.

With a smile tilting his lips, Sam looked over at her. "I used to take Mercedes here that summer we were together…" He shook his head, chuckling under her breath. "I was so broke all I could afford was cheap coffee…"

Rachel grinned. "Mercedes was so smitten with you," she remembered fondly.

"I liked her too… First girlfriend I ever had that didn't make me feel bad about myself," he admitted, rubbing his thumb along Rachel's knuckles gently. "Sucked when I had to move… But I'm kinda glad I did…" His brow wrinkled. "What if I stayed around, y'know…? What if I stayed with Mercedes?"

She was surprised by the way her heart flipped over at the alternate situation that never came to be. "Then Mercedes would have been a very lucky woman," she decided, lifting her teacup for a sip.

He stared at her a long moment. "I missed glee and everybody… And starting back at my old school was awkward… but I'm glad I left. Glad everything changed again…" He nodded. "I'm even glad Quinn cheated on me and Santana was using me as a beard."

She blinked at him in confused surprise. " _Why?_ "

He grinned crookedly. "'Cause if they didn't, I probably wouldn't have drawn such an awesome series… I wouldn't have been so screwed up…" He shrugged. "And then that director wouldn't have adapted it for Broadway and you wouldn't have come into my shop…" He squeezed her hand. "Like I said… It was fate that day we met again."

When her eyes teared up, she blamed it on hormones. "Oh Sam…" she breathed, sniffling.

With a knowing chuckle, he handed her a napkin.

She dabbed her face, sniffling. "If you keep saying things like that, I'm going to be a blubbering mess for the next five and a half months."

"I can handle it."

She pursed her lips at him. "I'd prefer  _not_ to cry every time I saw you."

He chuckled. "I can't help it… I'm excited."

"I know…" Her face softened. "Me too."

Picking her hand up, he brought it to his mouth and kissed the palm. She curled her fingers in like she was trying to keep it there, hold onto it.

Later that afternoon, they picked up a few groceries and returned to her parents' house so they could make them dinner. It was nice, she thought, to be back in Lima and so comfortable with herself. She'd always believed that when she would return she would point at everyone and yell, "I told you so!" And they would beg her forgiveness for ever doubting her, maybe even erect a sign that said 'Welcome to Lima, Home of Rachel Berry*" The star was mandatory, of course. But those were the resentful thoughts of a teenager; those were what got her through every slushee facial and every degrading comment. Ten years later, she had let go of those things. She was a happily married woman; a Broadway acclaimed actress; a New Yorker with the city living loud and bright in her heart.

The dinner table was filled with laughter and stories and she smiled on proudly as her dads joked, treating Sam like he'd always been there, always been a part of their lives and hers. She wasn't sure anybody else would have fit in as well as he did.

That night, lying in the guest bed, she stared at the ceiling, long-painted over, squinting as she searched for where her glow-in-the-dark stars were hidden.

Sam's hand glided over her bare waist and he sighed. "It's after one," he murmured.

"I know," she said back, rolling her head to look at him. "I can't sleep."

His thumb rubbed back and forth over her skin, her shirt having ridden up. "Are you cold?" He dragged the blanket up over her and then frowned. "I can get another blanket… Are you wearing socks?" He reached over with his toes and touched her feet.

She laughed quietly. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" He rubbed his face against his arm and lifted up onto his elbow. "Too warm then? I can open the window."

She placed her hand over his to keep him from getting out of bed. "Sammy, I'm fine, I promise you." She lifted her brows for emphasis, smiling.

"Okay…" He slid in closer, kissing her shoulder. "I know I'm worrying too much… And I know you're getting sick of it."

"Mildly irritated," she argued.

His lips quirked at the corners. "I can't help it…"

"I know." She rolled onto her side. "And I appreciate it…  _We_ appreciate it." She pressed his hand more firmly against her stomach. "But I'm not going to break… And it's early still, so if I'm too cold or too warm, I'll get my own blankets or open my own windows…" She stroked his thumb with hers. "In a few months, when I'm waddling and the size of a small hippo, I fully encourage you to start doing those things though…"

He chuckled. "Promise?"

She leaned over and kissed him. "When I can't see my feet anymore, who do you think will be putting on my socks?"

He grinned widely. "Is it weird I'm excited for that?"

Shaking her head, she snuggled into him. "No, I'm kind of excited for that too…"

He hugged his arms around her. "So what's keeping you up?" he wondered. "You worried about the reunion tomorrow?"

She danced her fingers back and forth along his side, tracing a scar he'd gotten as a child, climbing trees. "I'm not sure… Maybe a little bit…" She darted her eyes up to him. "Do you think they'll be surprised?"

"What? That you took Broadway?" He shook his head. "No, they're expecting that."

"True," she agreed nonchalantly. "No, what I'm wondering is… Will they be surprised that… That I'm with  _you?_ "

He stared down at her. "Are you surprised?"

"I  _was_ … When we first met and you asked me out…" She shook her head faintly. "I thought I was dreaming."

He smirked. "You dream about me asking you out a lot then?"

She pinched his side.

He flinched, chuckling under his breath.

"No, I just… I never expected to see you again, let alone in New York, and then… You were there and you were so handsome and you were actually asking me out! When in high school I wasn't your type and—"

"I lied. I was just broke, Rach," he interrupted. "And then everything happened with Mercedes and you were back with Finn and… It wasn't the right time for us then…"

"I agree. But, when we were reunited, you have to understand that it was surprising for me… That you would be interested in me…"

"I'm still interested in you…" He tucked her long hair behind her ear. "I'll always be interested in you." He kissed her forehead. "You're very interesting."

She smiled. "To you… I'm afraid to our fellow gleeks, I was everything  _but_ interesting… Annoying, obnoxious, irritating, loud, selfish, and all their many connotations, yes… But not really interesting…"

"That's their loss," he said simply. "And mine too back when we were in high school…" He squeezed her. "It doesn't matter what happens at the reunion tomorrow or what they say… Our life is in New York, together, and they're not a part of that…"

She nodded, closing her eyes and burying her face against his chest. "I love our life, Sammy."

"Me too."

She fell asleep listening to her husband's heartbeat.

The glee reunion was set a few hours before the rest of her graduating class was meant to gather. She and Sam slept in, having a late brunch and watching day-time television before they shared a shower and got dressed. Noah called to say he'd meet them at the school before his mother took the phone and spent twenty minutes grilling Rachel on Noah's personal life, of which she assured Mrs. Puckerman he was starting to take seriously.

When they arrived at McKinley, nostalgia was bitter. She honestly couldn't say there were a great many happy memories involved with her high school career. Glee was among some of her best, but even those were tainted with some of the less-than-supportive people she'd been surrounded with. At one time or another, she'd made peace with them, whether directly or later in her life for her own peace of mind. But she couldn't stop the tension that filled her shoulders as Sam circled the car and slid an arm around her waist, walking them inside.

They were halfway to the choir room before he noticed she'd left her shrug in the car.

"What if it's cold," he said, eyeing her bare shoulders beneath her purple sundress.

She grinned. "We discussed this last night… If I get cold, I'll simply go out to the car and get it."

He raised a brow. "Even if the singing's started?"

Her lips pursed. "You raise a good point…"

"Why don't I just go grab it?" He started backing up. "I'll meet you in there."

She shook her head, amused. He jogged off down the hallway and she turned around to continue making her way to the choir room. The empty hall echoed with her footsteps and she noticed that the lockers had been repainted or replaced. Hands knotted together, a small beaded purse hanging off her wrist, she looked around at the familiar surroundings and remembered how much she dreaded going to school, how she put on a brave stage-smile every day regardless. And then she saw the choir room door and her heart stuttered a little bit with affection.

The echo of footsteps had her shoulders hitting her ears. Immediately, she expected to be hit with a slushee; the dreaded icy cold corn syrup dripping down her skin felt as recent as yesterday. But it never came and when she opened her eyes, she found Noah standing in front of her, looking concerned.

"You all right?"

She sighed, relaxing. "Minor flashback," she admitted.

He frowned. "Sorry… Saw Sam in the parking lot, he's digging around for your sweater or whatever…" He held an arm out to her. "You ready to see the club, Princess?"

She smiled lightly, taking his arm. "I am. Are you?"

He quirked a brow at her. "You kidding? I can't wait to rub it in their faces that I'm a badass fireman." He flexed his guns, winking at her.

She laughed. "Well, you deserve their praise, Noah. You've come a long way."

"Damn right," he said, smirking. As they drew closer to the choir room, he bumped her shoulder. "Hey, you have too, Rach… You know that, right?"

She looked up at him. "In my heart of hearts, yes, I know… But for some reason, standing here, I feel a well of insecurity I hadn't expected…" She swallowed tightly. "It's stupid and unfounded, but there's a terrified part of me that thinks I'll walk in there and Santana will start throwing out names… And then they'll see Sam and they'll realize we're together and they'll laugh… And suddenly he'll realize that he spent  _six years_ with  _Rachel Berry!_ " She started hyperventilating. "Which is not something anybody aspired to do when we were here last!"

"Whoa, hey!" He turned, grabbing her shoulders and holding her still. "Those hormones are kicking in way early, huh?"

She glared at him.

He laughed unrepentantly. "Rach…" he said fondly, raising his brows. "Sammy-boy is crazy in love with you…" He stared at her searchingly. "Seriously, I couldn't pick a better guy for you!" He shook his head. "And nothing any of those people in there says is gonna change that…" He squeezed her shoulders. "They don't even  _know_ you, all right?  _I_ do… You're my best friend and I say it with all sincerity… You're  _nuts_ if you think any of them matter… In a day or two, we'll be back in New York. I'm gonna be fighting fires and you'll be singing on Broadway and Sam will be drawing comic books and rubbing your feet and baby proofing your apartment way too early!"

She laughed, sniffling.

"Okay?"

She nodded, reaching up to swipe beneath her eyes. "You're right."

"'Course I am." He turned back around, holding his arm out again. "Now let's go show them how awesome we turned out!"

She walked into the choir room with her chin held high.

The group of people that met them looked so very much like she remembered. They were older and they dressed differently, but she could still see the same gleeks she'd known ten years ago.

"Hah! I  _told_ you Puckerman would be hitting that!" Mercedes burst out smugly, grinning wide. "Girl, you are one lucky woman… Look at that glow!"

Rachel's brows furrowed and then she looked up at Noah by her side and together they burst into laughter.

"I'm not familiar with the joke," Kurt put in, frowning.

Finn smiled in similar confusion. "What happened?"

"You think that we…?" Rachel motioned between them. "No, no, no…"

Sighing, Puck looked down at her. "Seriously, she'll always be my hot little Jewish-American princess, but…" He hugged her tight to his side. "She's my best friend… Half the time, I forget she's a chick."

Rachel rolled her eyes, slapping his stomach. "How very flattering, Noah…"

"Damn," Mercedes complained. "Girl, you just cost me a free spa day on Kurt."

She smiled genuinely. "My apologies."

"No worries, I can make it back…" She eyed Rachel's hand. "So you  _are_ married though, right?"

Rachel's own gaze fell to her wedding ring. "Three years," she agreed, nodding.

"See?" Mercedes turned around and waved her hands. "Twenty-five, suckers. Hand over the cash."

Various gleeks started digging in their pockets, complaining under their breaths.

"Fellow actor?" Kurt asked eagerly.

She shook her head. "No, but he is an artist. In fact—"

"Aw man, but I put money on it being one of your cast mates," Finn whined, digging out his wallet again.

"What kind of artist?" Tina asked happily, walking over. "Maybe I know his work."

"So you  _did_ continue with your art?" Rachel asked, brightening.

"Yeah! Finished art school, now I have my own gallery."

Mike joined her, sliding an arm around her waist. "It's great! She's an Asian Van Gogh."

Rachel grinned. "Congratulations!" She motioned to Mike. "And I assume you're still dancing?"

He broke out a few moves, smiling all the while. "You know it."

"Not rusty at all," she approved.

"Stop hogging the Hobbit," Santana complained, crossing over to hip-bounce Mike out of the way. "We've still got bets on you,  _chica_. You need to settle them!" Taking her hand, she dragged her over to meet Kurt and Mercedes.

Feeling metal digging into her palm, she looked down and brought Santana's hand up. "I see you're married too, Santana. Congratulations are in order!"

Santana smirked happily, nodding. "Yeah, me and Brit made it official awhile back."

Rachel was surprised by how excited she was by that. "You did? That's  _wonderful!_ "

Santana stared at her a long moment, like she was trying to see if she was being serious. Realizing she was, she nodded. "Yeah, it is."

"Okay, diva, so you're on Broadway too, right?" Kurt interceded.

"I am," she toted, smiling.

"Got a Tony too," Sam's voice called out.

"Sam?"

"Evans?"

" _Trouty Mouth?_ "

He grinned, rolling his eyes a little, and then crossed the room to meet Rachel, sliding her shrug over her shoulders before his hand fell to her waist. "Been awhile," he said in greeting.

"Wait…"

"You two…?"

"You married  _Sam?_ "

"An artist, huh?" Tina said, looking up at him thoughtfully.

"I draw graphic novels," he explained. "And I sell them. I have my own store in New York."

" _Sam?_ " Kurt repeated, staring at Rachel in surprise. "How did  _that_ happen?"

Rachel looked up at her husband fondly. "It was fate," she said.

He grinned down at her, meeting her lips in a kiss. "Very serendipitous," he agreed.

Britney appeared then and held her hand out. "I  _told_ you she'd marry Sam."

Shaking his head, Kurt pulled out his wallet and grumbled, "And we all laughed when she said it…"

Santana wrapped her arms around her wife. "My baby's smart."

"Speaking of babies…" Quinn eyed Rachel thoughtfully. "Nice glow… You're expecting?"

Sam's hand fell to cradle her slightly curved stomach. "If it's a boy, we're gonna call him Sully."

Rachel laughed, covering his hand with hers.

The next couple hours were filled with catching up, singing, and settling a few bets. She honestly couldn't remember why she'd been worried. As much as she'd grown up, so had her fellow gleeks. Sure, Santana still tossed out the odd rude name, but there was an easy affection in it like she was doing it just for old-time's sake and not in a malicious manner. She listened intently as they caught her up on their lives and how well they were all doing, how happy they were, and she leaned back in the embrace of Sam's chest, feeling his kiss against her hair before he returned to his conversation with Mike and Noah about ninjas and whether he could work a couple into his next novel that looked suspiciously like them.

And later that evening at the real reunion, when she made the rounds, meeting old faces, some who'd once been antagonistic, a few who were even fans of hers now, she was content. Perhaps it was because she'd accomplished all that she'd set out to do. Maybe because whether she said it or not, a few of them ate their derisive words from their teen years. But in truth, she was just happy with herself and her life and where it was headed. She didn't know if her new-found friendships with the rest of the gleeks would stay in tact or fade over time like they had before, but she knew that she'd always have Sam and their baby. And probably Noah, since he loved New York as much as them and told her he needed to stick around and make sure Sam retained his balls after settling down like a pussy.

"You ready to get home?" Sam murmured in her ear as they danced slowly to a song, the night dying down, many of their classmates already having left.

She turned her cheek against his chest and looked up at him. "Can we stop and get some chocolate cookie crunch Tofutti?"

He laughed, hugging her waist and bending to kiss her neck. "Sure."

She nodded. "Then I'm ready if you are."

Gathering her sweater, they said goodbye to the last of the remaining gleeks, reaffirming plans to meet up at the Lima Bean for coffee in the morning before they left.

Walking down the halls of McKinley once more, arm wrapped around Sam's waist, she looked up at him. "Ten years ago, if somebody told you this would be your life, what do you think you would have done?"

He looked over at her and grinned. "Counted down the days until I saw you again."

She smiled. "You're a hopeless romantic, Sam Evans."

"Turned out well for me."

"Very true."

Perfectly, in fact.

Five and a half months later, Sully Evans greeted the world and his two adoring parents. His sister Sarah followed two years after. Family complete, Sam and Rachel Evans lived a long, happy lifetime together. All thanks to a little serendipitous fate.

[ **End.** ]


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